CROSSED | RICHIE JERIMOVICH
family friend, uncle rich, always lends a helping hand when you're in a bind.
18+MDNI, MAJOR CONTENT WARNING: please do not interact if you do not want to read any of the following—faux incest, descriptive unwrapped p in v sex, age gap (richie 40, reader college-aged), fingering, college partying/drinking, allusions to mikey’s substance abuse mentioned, idk sleazy nasty couch sex? richie with a belly, hairy richie, also richie with a big dick, it is nasty but consensual, no eva but tiffany mentioned, no use of y/n
happy kinktober! i will not be posting every day, but i hope this is enough nasty for now.
your mother, a registered nurse, had more things to worry about than your sneaky self on the opposite side of chicago on a rooftop with sixty other idiots you decided to party with. she was busy making sure no patient croaked, choked, or spontaneously combusted. her mind was not occupied with you “living in the moment of your twenties” because, for the most part, you took care of yourself since your dad skipped town when you were thirteen. you were headstrong and made sure to always have a safe solution to the situations you placed yourself in—like this party for example.
like any other weekend night, you slipped out of the house while your mom was on the graveyard shift and rode with thasia from your library study group.
thasia was trustworthy; she held your hair back while you puked your guts out, told you your boobs were crooked in your top, and checked your ass as you walked to make sure you didn't bleed through your pants. thasia always brought you home and even sometimes stayed the night after—she was a safe solution.
except for the fact that after mingling with some mutuals, having one strongly poured drink, a couple of rounds of grinding against the guy who always eyed you in calc, thasia was nowhere to be seen. the text on your phone that solidified it was ‘call me when you want to leave. left with daniel.” you didn't want to stay here alone, even if thasia wasn't by your side, knowing she was there was better than truly being alone. you also didn't want to ruin whatever little situation she was starting with daniel again.
but what you did know was that you did not want to risk taking a ride from anyone else because they were all past the point of tipsy. taking the “l” was out of the question because then you'd have to hoof it home on a dimly lit street. those were not safe solutions.
you could call your mother dearest, but then you'd have to get the nagging that went along with that, so after a few more moments of contemplation you picked up your cell and called uncle rich.
to your advantage, you were hardly buzzed, and in a conscious state of mind to figure it out. and for that solution richie would probably call you a hotshot for your quick thinking.
richie was clumsy and weird—possibly a little too enthusiastic at times, but he was always there. he used to be the guy who picked you up from soccer practice when your ole’ man couldn't make it. he was reliable, albeit, a little brash. he couldn't ever deny the soft spot he had for you, kid.
it rang and rang, and the second you thought it was going to go straight to voicemail uncle rich was on the other line.
“hey, unc,” you began while distancing yourself from the music and the sweaty partygoers. “hey, can you hear me?” you asked brushing past someone’s shoulder to wedge your way into the stairwell.
“yeah, yeah,” richie confirmed. he was awake, which was a good start. you didn't have to piss him off when asking for what you needed. his voice wasn’t groggy and you could faintly hear his television. he probably couldn't find his phone because it was wedged in the couch cushions.
richie couldn't ever settle himself after slinging sandwiches with his friend mikey, or to you uncle mike, at the beef. he needed a few hours to unwind with extra cigarettes, and some bullshit on the television.
“what's up, kid? it’s late,” richie asked, clicking down the television’s volume and pressing his phone closer to his ear. “really fuckin’ late, actually.”
“um, i need a favor,” you sighed softly as your eyes darted around the room, hearing footsteps from the lower levels drawing closer.
“oh shit, it must be ‘don't-tell-my-mom-hour’ since you're callin’ me. what’d you do this time?”
“i’m at a party, and i’m sorta stuck,” you continued.
“stuck as in somebody is fuckin’ with you? or stuck because you didn't stay with your friend like i told you to before?” richie pressed, although he knew he had full intentions of coming to the rescue. he knew all too well the woes of going out losing a friend along the way. “buddy system, kid. buddy system,” he reiterated.
“my ride didn't even tell me she was leaving,” you explained with a huff. “can you please come and get me?”
“imagine that kiddo is stranded and needs her uncle rich to come and save her,” richie teased although you could hear him shuffling around.
uncle rich was a safety net and not only in times of immediate crisis like your first flat tire or that time your boss would constantly hit on you while you worked. he’d pick you and cousin carmy up from school and stick you in uncle mike’s office at the beef. your mom could finish her shift at the hospital and you and carmy did homework until someone on the staff could get free labor out of either one of you.
“uh-huh. yeah,” you agreed dryly, a little mumble slipping from your lips as a couple passed you. “it’s nowhere shady, i promise. that rooftop off the highway.”
“gimmie like twenty minutes, okay? just stay outta trouble ‘til i get there. no movin’, or talkin’, or doing that roof jumping shit like spider-man. i’ll come up and get ya.”
you laughed, relieved in every sense of yourself. “got it. thanks again, seriously.”
“yeah, you owe me, hotshot. should be chargin’ you a chauffeur fee for as many times you asked me to drag you around.”
you’d been watching from the top of the roof for any sign of richie, and it wasn’t long before you could see his beater of a sedan sliding into street parking.
your goodbyes were quick and unenthusiastic; you were trying to rush to uncle rich as soon as you could, so you didn't keep him waiting. you did him the courtesy of trekking down half the amount of stairs and meeting him on a landing.
richie had a shirt balled in his hand and his keys in the other. his jacket was unzipped, but his hood was up, slides on with baggy sweatpants that he was most definitely free balling in. his oversized t-shirt concealed most of what his missing underwear was meant to do.
your party attire wasn’t exactly impressing him. more so making him question who the hell you were raised by and why in your right mind you would want to spend forty-degree weather without a jacket in sight.
he couldn’t begin at hello if you left the house resembling a girl from the strip club where his wallet got lifted at, but no matter, uncle richie loved you and always came prepared.
“i was fuckin’ right without even having to see you first. put this shit on,” he insisted tossing the wrinkled beef uniform shirt in your direction.
you attempted to pull the plunge of your shirt closer together and dusted your jeans. at least most of your body was covered. he should've seen you during spring break—poor unc would've had a heart attack.
“what?” you grumbled, shaking out the shirt he had given you. a waft of cigarette smoke and snuggle fabric softener hit your nose.
“dressed like a floozy, and guess what? it’s cold. ever thought of that shit?”
your nipples were slightly hardened through the thin material of your shirt. it was cold, but the breeze was light and it was much more lively next to everyone at the top of the building.
“uncle rich, it was a party—”
“and i know what happens at parties because i was the jagoff pickin’ up girls like you. now, put the fuckin’ shirt on.” richie crossed his arms, waiting impatiently for you to slip on his restaurant tee. your copper colored sleeves clashed with the burgundy berf shirt.
the fabric hits at your upper thigh, causing you to tuck it into the front of your jeans in an attempt to still look trendy. you followed richie down the stairs, watching him fiddle with his jacket pocket and rummage for a cigarette without taking the pack out.
“and y’know you’re crashin’ with me tonight, right? because i’m responsible for your hotshot-self now that you’re gettin’ in my car.” richie looked down at you as you spotted his car upon exiting the building.
“tiffany isn't there?” you questioned, jiggling the handle which was always stuck once you approached the passenger’s side. the door handle was the last concerning thing about the entire car, but richie had a system that he swore by although you could never master it.
“nah, not seein’ her anymore,” your uncle shrugged, taking a hit of his freshly lit cigarette.
“you said that last time.”
“yeah, i’m sure your virtuous ass has never been back and forth with a guy. do i need to bring up the gallagher kid?”
“seems like you already brought that back up, okay great,” you grumbled. “you can do better than tiffany. i think she's stuck up.” you hated when he came by and tugged the door just right.
richie furrowed his eyebrows. “i don't think she's—” he huffed, knocking your hand anyway to get a better grip on the rusting metal. “kid—every time—pull up not out, then you gotta—” richie flicked the ash from his cigarette and was prepared to slip his hand next to yours and pop the door open. a soft groan left his mouth as if his explanations had actually ever worked for you before.
“uncle rich i am ‘finessing the linkage’, so shut the fuck up.” you stopped him before he could even get to the phrase he coined for the car door.
“no, you’re not. you gotta—”
“i’m going to get it,” you protested, blocking him to earn yourself a few more seconds at doing it on your own.
his hand reached for yours to settle your tugging. he used your hand as leverage to anchor the door. he pushed your hand down and popped the handle, making the door creak as you went under his arm to slide into the passenger side.
“it’s okay to need me, kid,” richie assured you before shutting the door.
“yeah,” you sighed. you were passing the crap richie had stuffed onto the front seat into the back. he made himself comfortable in front of the wheel. his seat was almost completely reclined. he was letting his cigarette hang out of his mouth while he cranked the engine. his arm was slung behind your seat as he checked his mirrors.
“but what's this new beef with tiff?” richie questioned, eyeing you as he cracked his window to blow his smoke to the wind.
it wasn't new at all. he just hadn't paid much attention to your disdain towards her.
“she always acts like she's better than everyone. i just don't like her.”
“she's definitely better than me,” richie confessed with a shrug. “i mean i don't have much else goin’ for me. when someone half as pretty as tiff comes into the beef, maybe i’ll move on.”
it was quiet for a while, occupying time as richie smoked. you occasionally side-eyed him, which made him only want to try harder.
“i’m outta smokes, and i’m gettin’ another pack before we get back home. you want somethin’?” bribery was always a good option no matter what age you were, but it was easier to win you over when you were younger.
“no.”
richie was at the counter. you trailed behind him reluctantly because it was better than sitting in his cramped car and waiting.
“my treat, kid. go pick somethin’,” he insisted, tapping the packet of cigarettes on the counter.
you rubbed your chilled arm and sauntered down the aisle, mostly to keep richie quiet.
you brought a can of tea and two bags of candy: sour worms for him and red vines for yourself. you'd end up enjoying yourself once you pulled yourself on his stained sofa and watching reruns of naked and afraid especially when richie started claiming that he could ‘totally do that shit.’
“see, now you're comin’ around. just you, me, and junk. like old times,” richie smiled as he paid with a handful of loose cash.
once back in the car you cracked the tab on your tea and sipped. richie lit another cigarette. the ashtray in his car was overfilled, all the cigarette butts were precariously stacked on top of each other; some already managed to spill to the ground on the unvacuumed carpet.
“you been hangin’ with mikey too much,” richie commented as you dug into your roped candy. “he never stops eatin’ those things.”
you tugged a piece loose and twirled the rest between your fingers. “he doing any better? uncle mike, i mean.”
“uh,” richie paused, clearing his throat. “let’s just say that i’m glad i only got a call from you tonight.”
“sorry, uncle rich.”
“nah, kid. not your fault. mikey’s just got his own way of doin’ stuff.”
richie’s apartment hadn't changed a bit; no matter where he moved, he still had his clutter and an unorganized one-bed-one-bath. the only thing that changed is the available amount of square footage which only ever seemed to decrease.
you left your shoes at the door, not because richie was against shoes indoors, but because you knew you didn't want to dig under the couch after one of them inevitably slid too far back.
he emptied his jacket pockets onto his countertop while you set your midnight snack on the coffee table. you pulled off his uniform shirt and laid it across the unfolded laundry. richie’s ancient radiator always made it suffocatingly warm in his living room.
“you can take my bed when you're tired,” richie offered, peeking his head into the den to watch you try and move his laundry pile to the corner chair. “unless you want to crash next to me on the couch,” he laughed, licking the pad of his thumb.
“bed sounds nice,” you replied too quickly as richie put a couple of the worms in his mouth. the cushion you were currently sinking into had a deep depression likely from richie’s weight being pressed into it nightly.
he sat on the opposite end of the couch, plopping one leg up on the coffee table. his arm was slung over the back of the couch, barely grazing your shoulder as you settled in next to him.
he had his candy package resting on his abdomen as he flipped through the channels to find something mindless to watch. a smirk was present on his lips, trying to contain his residual laughter from his mediocre joke.
“suit yourself, this baby has gotten me through more nights than i can count,” richie joked eating another handful of sour worms while you pulled your legs to sit criss-crossed beside him.
though naked and afraid was not on selected programming tonight, deadliest catch was, and what kind of uncle would he be if he didn’t force you to watch boats on stormy waters haul in crabs?
your knee was resting against the outer edge of his thigh. his arm on the back of the couch was looser and more relaxed, occasionally letting his fingers grasp at the ends of your hair. you didn't mind it, if anything it reminded you of being a little girl barely being able to stay awake past nine o’clock watching the same television set with him.
you'd yawn and rub your eyes with your fist and fight sleep because uncle rich let you stay up until you conked out crooked on the arm of the couch. richie would follow suit after he smothered both of you in a sherpa blanket that was not properly cared for.
currently, you were in the same position, dozing off watching television.
“so is tiff a sore subject or can i say that i broke things off this time?”
you head whipped around, suddenly not as tired as you once were. “what?”
“i just thought i’d mention it because you think she's all high and mighty.”
“i don't care,” you shrugged, although it was evident in your tone that you did. “probably better that you did though.”
“well, i did because i don't think i’m ready to settle down with her yet,” richie admitted, patting your thigh.
your eyes met his, taking a moment to let his fingertips slide back to his candy. he then awkwardly tugged at his large shirt and pulled at the waistband of his sweats—just fiddling.
“yet?” you questioned. your neck was still craned over your shoulder watching his every move.
richie swallowed, shifting uncomfortably on the sofa. “yeah, i mean what girl is gonna really make me happy? they all gotta have somethin’ wrong with ‘em if they go for me.” his lips made a thin line. “but y’know tiff was really one of the good ones? i just can't commit to what she wants.”
you didn't know exactly what tiffany wanted because if it was loyalty and reliability she lost the perfect man for that.
“uh-huh,” you muttered, feeling your licorice breath hit your lip.
“whatever real reason you got for not likin’ her is fine, but i don't think it ever woulda worked because of me.” he pulled the center hem of his sweatpants, shifting his weight again. gross, basically manspread, not having a care in the world that he should definitely not be the guy to go commando.
you rolled your eyes; uncle rich always hated that shit. he still hated it now. he nudged your thigh with a look that said knock it off.
“stop actin’ like that. i gotcha a snack and picked you up off a fuckin’ roof in the middle of the night after i worked all fuckin’ day,” richie scolded lightly, rummaging for another worm.
“i’m not acting like anything.”
“oh-ho, real fuckin’ rich. poutin’ at me because of tiff? when she's only ever been nice to you?” richie jabbed at the look of contempt that was still on your face.
“why are you defending her like you're still together?”
“god, i don't know. only spent fuckin’ forever tryin’ to impress her. which you helped me with by the way. remember that?”
you turned your body, one leg now hanging off the couch and the other one tucked. “that was before i didn't like her.”
richie held his temples with a breathy exhale. “kid, what am i gonna do with you? you never shut your mouth.”
“wonder where i learned that from,” you retorted, crossing your arms and pressing your lower back against the armrest.
richie’s every last nerve was spent on you, and although he wouldn't have it any other way he couldn't stand your smartass mouth which was a direct effect of him.
“give the bitchin’ a rest, sweetheart.”
you chewed the inner part of your lip so as not to let the creeping smirk plaster over your face. you couldn't stay mad at him forever. richie’s expression formed right back; his eyes almost closing from his grin and his forehead wrinkles softened. you kicked richie lightly in his calf making him flick your kneecap. it was on now because richie tossed his open bag of candy on the coffee table by his foot.
back and forth. you pawed at his fleeing hand landing a jab on his chubby stomach. he pinched your wrist as you retaliated. you leaned forward, rocking forward on your knees to give his forehead a thwap. he knocked your shoulder making you gasp as your hand landed on the tops of his thighs. richie had flinched from the mere thought of his dick, which you narrowly avoided, being crushed by your palm. you swallowed glancing at his lap and then to his piercing blue eyes.
he cleared his throat awkwardly as his eyes wandered across your entire embarrassed face and straight down to your shirt. the damn one he tried so hard to cover after disapproving of it on sight.
you moved one hand to his chest, balancing yourself more appropriately against him until you could comfortably sit back across the couch. that was until you felt richie fidget in his seat. your eyes flicked to his lap, the lump in his pants a lot more evident than it once was.
that’s when you leaned closer to rest your head against his forehead. your mind was jumbled—trying to gasp at any sense you had left before you placed your lips on his.
richie paused for a moment preparing to cross a line that he was leaning over the moment you fell into his lap.
he brought you closer, embracing your waist he sighed into the kiss. the tension in your shoulders relaxed, pressing harder as his lips were fully captured.
you complied the moment he was coaxing you forward with his hands groping each side of your waistband. his legs were now planted on the ground—an open invitation for you to straddle his lap.
your grip tightened on his shirt, moaning as richie straightened his back to hold you closer. his lips began guiding yours into something slower and deeper. the kind where every sensation was tangible. his growing erection below you was only separated by a few pieces of fabric and one of his hands cradled your ass while the other unbuttoned your jeans.
you didn't know why it was so easy or even so tempting to lean over like you did, but no matter why it felt like the place you needed to be.
you softly whined as richie’s tounge entered your mouth. he was tugging down your zipper, resting his fingers against the front of your panties. you were cupping his face, comfortably immersed in this little, heated bubble. your thumb brushed upwards on his facial hair—a gentle reminder that he was being accepted in this moment.
his touch mellowed you; you were so malleable under his guidance while he moved his lips with yours. he dipped into the top of your underwear surpassing your trimmed mound of pubes and squeezing past the constraint your jeans provided to gently rub your folds.
you pulled back gasping softly, hanging onto richie’s wrist as his finger pads dampened with your arousal. his head dipped to your chest, messily kissing your sternum and the sides of your breasts that were peeking from the exaggerated neckline of your shirt.
you squirmed as his scruffy, bearded face grazed your soft skin. grinding into his lap while feeling the brush of his long shaft that was bulging under your seat made your anticipation grow while his fingers prodded your entrance.
“you want me to stop, kid?” richie’s fingers were still toying with your outer folds. he asked because he had to, making sure you wanted him as much as he wanted you in this very moment.
if you hadn't called him to be your lifeline you'd be getting it from some asshole with daddy’s money paying for their tuition while inside of their shared dorm room. at least this way he could watch over you.
“no,” your voice didn't waver. you were almost there to having his fingers inside of you. maybe you were a little desperate and quick to succumb to the teasing richie was demonstrating by dragging his finger pads around your folds and occasionally brushing against your clit.
this was not a quick entry by any means, richie was forcing your jeans and panties down further so his fingers could be enveloped by you. you performed an awkward shimmy to get your jeans and underwear to the bottoms of your thighs, so richie’s hand could sit easily between your thighs and up your pussy.
you moaned with the pitch lifting at the end, taking his fingers easier than you were about to take the restless cock in his pants.
“that okay?” he inquired, as he maneuvered them faster. his breath hit your chest—a little sticky in the space between your cleavage.
you nodded quickly as your nails dug into his arm. his fingers curled to reach your g-spot fully.
it was so stuffy in the den—enough to make your lower back begin to sweat. his palm cupped your cunt as he fingered upwards. you peeled off your shirt quickly, letting your breasts fall, not nearly as pretty and perky in the way the top held them, but no matter the logistics of breast tissue, richie kissed a column of your neck and then the underside of your jaw.
“yeah, good. mhm,” you nodded again, rocking against his hand.
he was keeping you close, not wanting you to stray even as you fussed from pleasure. you were melting in his hand as his fingers repeatedly thrust inside your walls.
you were sinking further down trying to keep his fingers where they were as they filled you so nicely.
there was enough force behind each of his movements, curving against your sweet spot just the way you wanted it. richie’s fingers were completely soaked, working you just right to keep you wanting more. he could feel you bowing forward trying to force more stimulation to your hole, knowing it was time to move on. he’d much rather let you cum on cock to show you how good it could make you feel.
richie removed his fingers from your sex, circling your clit slowly. his thumb rolled over your unstimulated bud. your lips parted in protest as he stopped, leaving it so swollen and begging for him to touch again.
he offered his hand to your mouth. you shly held either side of his hand and bobbed your head as your tounge parted his fingers. you maintained eye contact, feeling him shift again to squeeze his erection through his sweatpants.
“imma fuck you, sweetheart,” richie took his cleaned fingers out of your mouth and gave your lips a quick peck. “jus’ gotta get outta these,” he tugged at your jeans; you shakily stood stepping out of your bottom garments as richie tended to his own.
his pants' waistband was folded sitting directly under his heavy balls. he offered his lap back to you; it looked a little more intimidating this time with his dick fully spring. his filthy fingers jacked himself slowly; his was ruddy tip leaking with pre-cum.
he offered his hand to your mouth as you bracketed his legs again. “go on gimmie somethin’ to work with, baby.”
your eyes flicked to his hand while you spat in it, knowing he was going to take your saliva and stroke his cock so boldly in front of you again.
you hovered wearily above his shaft while richie held the base of his dick. you were sinking onto his tip slowly, breathing through the much different sensation. his cock opened you more than his fingers.
richie’s mouth suddenly went dry, having you begin to mount him. there wasn't any coming back from this now. there was only a guilty conscience later to add to the list of things that kept him up at night. whether he wrapped his dick up or not it wouldn't matter who he’s fucking.
“god, rich,” you whined, squeezing the top half of his manhood in your inner walls. your arousal was making this easier, but his erect length was greater than average.
“you're fine. doin’ good, kid,” richie encouraged. it almost felt wrong to say, but he wasn't taking it back now. you were taking him so good, stuffing yourself with the dick from the guy that honestly cared about you the most.
richie was watching you worriedly as you slid down his length further. your hands were still planted on his shoulders by the time you fully seated yourself on his cock. you eyes were now completely closed, grounding yourself in the moment to relax. his hand still guiding his cock straight into your wet hole, supporting you in the only way he knew how.
“fuck,” you murmured, hiding your face in the crook of his neck. you slid your hands behind him to brace yourself on the back of the couch.
“you’re okay, sweetheart. i got you,” richie consoled, letting out a shaky breath. his hands spread your ass some as if the feeling of the fullness would subside faster. you only nodded; a tightness not only in your throat but in your gripping pussy.
“i got you,” he reassured as you began to work up to an unsteady bounce on his hardened dick.
you hummed in acknowledgement, wiping your forehead on his shoulder before picking your head up to begin quickening your motion on his manhood. your tits jiggled temptingly in front of his face.
licking and kissing at the curves of your breast uncoordinatedly, he immersed himself in your chest. suckling at your skin but also your nipples—the ones that were pebbled so teasingly under your top in the stairwell. his tounge dragged your areolas and then wrapped your nipples in a hefty cover of warm saliva.
richie cursed under his breath when the sticky sound of your cunt filled his ears as you slid down a little harsher this time. you were working his length with a little more confidence as richie groaned.
up and down, your legs cramped but you paid no mind to it, pushing through it to work his length the right way. the slight curve on his shaft was perfect, expanding your walls and making you follow his length all the way down. there was a slight stick from the sweat but your pussy was creaming around his cock.
your legs kept snagging on his shirt with your quick bursts of riding his pole; he bundled the bottom of his shirt right above his hairy belly. the same dark belly hair trailed down to his pubes—overgrown, yet not taking away from any of his length.
you rolled your hips back. with a new sensation against his cock richie peered over your shoulder watching you grind against him.
his eyes suddenly widened, and he could feel his dick slightly twitching inside your pussy. he grabbed the underside of your thighs to slow your riding. he gave an awkward chuckle, which made him swallow. “stand up for me, sweetheart.”
he couldn't believe he was already turning you over, slightly embarrassed—possibly even a tiny hit to his ego. but you, kid, who was always ready to test his every fucking limit was still doing it now. he couldn't even try to make up some sexy excuse because his mind was already fuzzy from being so close. so the last thing he requested was for you to stand.
richie wiped his sweaty forehead on his shoulder sleeve, tugging off his oversized tee. “yeah, that’s good. just hold the back of the couch.” richie’s hand was splayed on your lower back as you positioned yourself, trying to plant your feet firmly as he lined his veiny cock with your entrance. he bit the inside of his lip looking at all the arousal richie helped produce.
a little arch in your back as richie rocked forward moving your entire body forward from the weight behind his thrust. your arms stretched out far and your head favored leaning on your right bicep as it hung low. your legs close together were edging richie’s tip just right as he humped. you had a certain grip on his cock—coating him with that sinful wetness.
richie crouched some, taking his thrusts upwards. his cock nudged at your cervix, making you gasp loudly. you panted into your arm as your legs shook.
his dick ramming into your sex, widening your hole to take all of him in a new position. richie’s opposite hand guided your hips down to him to meet his motions.
“uncle rich,” you moaned. your eyes became teary while his shaft ravaged your walls. “i think i’m gonna cum,” you exhaled; the wobble in your legs becoming more apparent as your cunt throbbed around him. “n-no, i’m really gonna cum,” you rambled again, feeling that pool in your belly building stronger.
deep in your core, that orgasm was rising to the surface, and richie wasn't stopping. “me too, baby. me too. gonna cum too, baby,” he agreed.
he could feel how heavy it was in his balls—no more edging, no different positions. his hips bucked as you clawed for stability on the couch.
“uncle rich,” you whined again, becoming louder as your climax hit. his wild humps continued until you were pulling forward unintentionally from your come down.
he pulled out quickly, holding not only the base of his cock but your hip. you felt his seed shoot on your lower back, slightly cringing as the hot viscous substance landed.
“fuck. okay. hold on,” he blurted, steadying you while he pulled up his sweats. he massaged your hip gently as he grabbed a discarded takeout napkin—the quickest solution although undesirable.
you unsteadily waddled to grab the shirt he loaned you previously. with yourself half-dressed richie sat you next to him on the sofa.
richie held either side of your face, placing gentle kisses against your forehead every few seconds. his chest was still rising and falling rapidly. your body was curled into him.
your smudged makeup only worsened when you rubbed your knuckle on your under eye. richie brushed your hair back and then tugged the blanket off the back of the sofa. with a bit of fluffing and fixing, that old sherpa fabric covered you both.
suddenly you weren't blocking out the noise of the television. the wind was still slinging cages and the crew was scrambling onboard. richie now moved to rubbing your cheek with his thumb, quietly trying to settle your trembling body.
“you good, kid?” he questioned, making your head flick up.
“yeah.”
“you wanna talk about—”
you cut him off, “thanks for picking me up, uncle rich.”
there wasn't enough time tonight to dissect what just happened, nor did you want to. you didn't want to pick apart your daddy issues or the oddly good feeling of validation it just gave you to know that richie didn't push you away.
“anytime, kid. i’ll be there when you need me.”
